Reasons Why I Love Alfred F Jones
by Chiara Alice Vargas
Summary: Series of drabbles on why Arthur loves Alfred very much. It's a human AU, and it's in Arthur's POV. Not much continuity here - just lots and lots of drabbles/one-shots compiled into one. Rated M for later chapters
1. Reason 1

**Reasons Why I Love Alfred F. Jones**

**By Chiara Alice Vargas**

**Rated M for later chapters?**

_Series of drabbles on why Arthur loves Alfred very much. Human AU. It's in Arthur's POV._

* * *

**Reason #1**

_He's the sweetest, most thoughtful lover I have ever had, while at the same time, managing to be idiotic, adorable and dorky._

* * *

"Artie!"

I turned from the stove to see him leaning on the kitchen door's doorframe. He had stubble on his face from not shaving for a few days, his hair was dishevelled and he was still in his white tank top and boxers. Surprisingly, he had woken up quite early today. Sometimes, he sleeps over at my house, because... Well... Ahem. He had a somewhat panic-stricken expression on his face.

"What is it, Alfred?" I only hoped it wouldn't take long; I might burn the sausages again if he distracts me long enough.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" His cheeks turned red, and he pulled out something that looks like a bouquet of flowers with a card attached. Now, I don't normally like flowers, but this time I will make an exception because... well, how could I not, when Alfred had seemingly emaciated the entire inventory of the neighbourhood flower shop?

I stood there, shocked. The oil sizzled and fried the sausages, and by then I could have cared less if it went from a bit overcooked to horribly burnt to potentially carcinogenic. It could fry itself as long as it bloody wants.

"I... Alfred. That's a bloody lot of flowers..." I managed to say.

He blinked and laughed nervously. "W-well, I didn't know what to get you for Valentine's Day, and we've just started going out a few weeks ago..." His eyes were somewhat fixated on the carpeted floor, as if there was something oddly fascinating beneath his feet. "So I decided on flowers," he cleared his throat, "and I didn't know what flowers to get you, so I bought all of these..."

I didn't even know what to answer. "That must've cost a lot..." I said lamely. Well of course it must have cost a lot! Stupid Arthur! He's not the bleeding First National Bank of Alfred F. Jones!

"Um, well, yeah, but it's not like I mind... I hope you like it?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes, I do." I nodded slowly as I remembered: It was Valentine's Day and he had gotten a gift for me, but I cannot return the favour. I have simply forgotten about the occasion — after all, I do not usually celebrate Valentines. I haven't bought a gift for him and the mere mention of the occasion by him has caught me by surprise. "I'm sorry, Alfred... I don't have a gift for you."

He shook his head and gave me a tiny smile. "It's okay, Artie. I didn't expect one anyway."

I raised my eyebrow. What was the cheeky bastard implying?

"N-no, I meant," his expression changed when he saw my bemused reaction. "I meant, I gave you a Valentines gift because I wanted to you to feel special, even in just a small way." he frowned a bit.

"Oh. I..." I cleared my throat. "It's sweet, Alfred. It's very sweet of you." The corners of my lips slowly turned upwards in an awkward smile. I hope he knew that the gesture was greatly appreciated. I switched off the stovetop, walked to Alfred and gave him a hug.

"I love you, Alfred." I said; my voice muffled against his chest.

"I love you too, Artie!" he laughed and hugged me back with his hand still holding the flowers, the bouquet's petals tickling the back of my neck.

"Hey Artie," he started after a minute or two of standing there in each other's arms. "I was just thinking... since flowers aren't really that much; I guess I could throw in an additional gift..."

"What could that be?" I looked up and chuckled, amused.

"Well, I could offer you... Um... Special services... Just for today..." he coughed casually and looked a bit to the side. "W-we could do whatever you want..."

"Sounds fine by me, Alfred." I smirked a bit. Don't even try to think about what kind of 'special services' were involved.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** This is my first time doing this story format. Drabbles, drabbles, and drabbles with no particular continuity except for my headcanons and also the Human AU thing.

Please tell me what you think? /:3


	2. Reason 2

**Reasons Why I Love Alfred F. Jones**

**By Chiara Alice Vargas**

**Rated M**

_Series of drabbles on why Arthur loves Alfred very much. Human AU. It's in Arthur's POV._

* * *

**Reason #2**

_He's always fun to be with (not that I would admit it) and he's so full of energy, which complements my personality._

* * *

"Artie, I'm bored." He whined to me. His legs were on the top of the couch and he was upside-down, his clothes all crumpled and his hair all messed up. I merely nodded, acknowledging his complaint. I was busy doing my embroidery on the other side of the couch and I honestly could not be bothered to cater to his whims at the moment.

"What do you wanna do, hm?" He asked, pulling himself up to a sitting position. His eyebrows were creased in the middle as he tried to think of something entertaining to do.

"I want to do my embroidery in peace." I replied haughtily.

"You're no fun. When's the last time you went out?" He puffed up his cheeks and frowned.

"Two days ago, to buy groceries and toiletries." I enunciated clearly and certainly. He looked appalled. "What?" I turned around to face him.

"Dude, you need to get out of here and have some fun."

I snorted. "Please, I am not up for your shenanigans or whatever you call it today. I would very much appreciate to be left where I am seated right now whilst I do needlework."

He snatched my embroidery away from me and I protested loudly, because one, that was rude, and two, he could have scratched me with my needle.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Alfred?" I questioned him incredulously, trying to get my embroidery back.

"Nuh-uh!" He stood up, my needlework held behind his back as he wagged a finger, a gesture which I found highly annoying. Just who does he think he is?! "Come on, Artie!" He pulled me up into a standing position and dropped whatever I was embroidering onto the couch as he led me upstairs with him.

We both entered our room and he hurriedly changed his clothes as I watched with a half-furious, half-amused expression before he led me out of the house to face a sunny, summer day outdoors.

"The bloody hell did you bring me out here for?" I scowled.

"Don't be like that! Come on, let's go to the ice cream parlour! You should really have fun once in a while! Besides, when's the last time we went out on a date, huh?" he grinned at me expectantly, willing me to just give in and go with him, looking at me almost pleadingly with those sapphire eyes of his that make my heart unwillingly melt every time.

I sighed in defeat; I suppose he is right, I need to get out of the house more often... Soak up some vitamin D or whatever. And I guess it's been a while since we've gone out together, so he has a point there. I smiled just a bit and rolled my eyes. "All right Alfred, you win. Come on." And he made a whooping cheer and a fist pump in the air, for his success into luring me into his little daytime date.

We walked and talked for a while — well, he did most of the talking. His smile never seemed to waver and I felt my spirits lift and my mind forget about the worries I have for a while. It's not so bad to go out and have fun every so often, I suppose. Alfred's just a charming ball of sunshine, bursting with energy which I never seemed to figure out where in the world it all came from. He held my hand along the way, ignoring all the weird looks we got from passers-by. Moments later, we arrived and I hardly even noticed. I simply got lost in all his chattering. He pushed open the glass door, the man behind the counter greeting him. He must be a regular, since they greeted each other so amiably like they already knew each other.

"Alfred, m'boy! Nice of you to pass by! What would you like for today?" the man behind the counter asked when we've seated ourselves on the blue, red and white decorated barstools around the centre island. He looked like he was in his forties, with strands of grey hair visible on his head upon closer inspection. "Oh my, who's this fellow?" he asked him again, referring to me with a toothy grin.

"Hey, Mister Johnson! This here's my boyfriend Artie," and with that I flushed bright pink; I have never heard of him refer to me as his boyfriend in public. "And... I'd like to order two of the specials for the both of us! Throw in two chocolate milkshakes as well." he winked and grinned at him, and Mister Johnson, the ice cream server person nodded with a smile, getting on with the preparations.

I watched him with piqued interest as he scooped different scoops of ice cream with different colours onto tall sundae glasses, blended ice and milk and sugar and chocolate in a blender, placed slices of banana and small walnuts on the side of the sundae glass, drizzled chocolate syrup onto the tall ice cream sundaes, sprinkled sprinkles, and finally, served us our Daily Ice Cream Special with a chocolate milkshake each. I honestly felt like a kid again, being served colourful ice cream like this. It's been a while since I've had ice cream that's not served at home on the couch, eaten from the tub while watching a chick-flick.

"This looks really amazing..." I intended to say this to myself, but Alfred had heard me.

"It does, doesn't it?" He grinned. "Dig in, babe!" He laughed and started eating away at his ice cream sundae. I watched him for a few seconds, trying to understand just how he could eat all that so quickly, before snapping back to reality and taking a spoonful out of my own tall sundae glass and pushing it into my mouth.

It was amazing; the flavours blended so well, and the syrup tasted so sweet and I could taste a bit of the banana and the nuts I had scooped out. As I started, I couldn't stop eating my ice cream, and I didn't notice soon enough that Alfred had been staring at me with a smug, cheeky grin plastered onto his face as he watched me devour my cold, heavenly, sweet dessert.

When I had noticed, though, my cheeks flushed pink with annoyance and slight embarrassment. "Oi, what're you looking at, eh?" I frowned. Chocolate ice cream was all over my lips, and my teeth and tongue were stained with multiple colours because of the sprinkles. It didn't do really well to intimidate Alfred so that he'd stop staring at me.

"You're cute. You look like you haven't eaten ice cream in ages." He smirked, and I blinked. Alfred reached out to wipe the corner of my mouth with his handkerchief, and I blushed slightly.

"Don't need... You to wipe m'mouth..." I muttered a bit defiantly, but Alfred ignored it.

"You still have some on your lips."

"Oh, I —" I cleared my throat and tried to take Alfred's handkerchief so I could wipe my lips, but Alfred stopped me by pecking my lips and flicking his tongue over it so quickly that it took me a few seconds to register that. Luckily, no one was looking. My cheeks turned an ugly shade of red and I sputtered, "I could have just wiped that off myself! You know I don't like it when affection is overly displayed in public!"

"Mmm, yummy." He snickered, and I knew it was a hopeless case. Instead, I just smiled and laughed along like a child that had gotten away with a particularly naughty act.

We finished our ice cream sundaes and shakes, talked and laughed for a while before leaving. It was still bright outside and Alfred had suggested we do something else and not go home just yet.

"What else do you want to do?" I asked him. We were standing outside the ice cream parlour and Alfred wiped his forehead which was already sweaty. He proceeds to remove his jacket and ties it around his waist before replying to me.

"It's getting really hot and I want to cool down..." He pursed his lips in thought, "...soooo..." he drew out the word, "We should go ice skating!"

"B-but I don't know how to ice skate!" I protested.

"I can teach you!" He countered.

And so I ended up with my arse dragged to the skating rink and my feet forced into the rented skates. He carefully guided me onto the ice, holding my hands the whole way. I held onto them tighter, scared of falling and landing on my buttocks. We made it to the centre of the rink — so far, so good — some other people were gliding easily around the edges, so the centre was mostly free of ice skaters.

"See? It's not so bad!" He grinned at me cheerfully. My face was just a mess of worried, scared, excited and confused, but his smile made my mood lift just a bit.

I gave a shaky chuckle and looked at the smooth ice beneath my feet. I was shaking, partly from the cold, and partly because I was terrified of the ice and skating in general. I imagined, like how it would be like if the ice cracked and I fell... Or if I slipped and injured myself...

"Don't worry, Artie. I'll make sure you won't fall." He winked and I flushed a bit.

"Y-yeah, sure." I nodded and gave him a tiny smile, before letting him guide me across the ice, gradually speeding up to glide with me on the rink. It was amazing, and it was the most fun I've had in a long time thanks to Alfred.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Wow, this got pretty long! I'm not really good with describing things so... ;3; I hope you liked it? :3 I published 2 chapters at the same time just because I can. =u=b


	3. Reason 3

**Reasons Why I Love Alfred F. Jones**

**By Chiara Alice Vargas**

**Rated M**

_Series of drabbles on why Arthur loves Alfred very much. Human AU. It's in Arthur's POV._

* * *

**Reason #3**

_He can be annoying most of the time but can't make me mad for a long time._

* * *

I flipped another page of the book I was reading. It was a quiet Sunday morning. My cup of tea was half-empty and my plate of scones have been decimated unconsciously. My cat, Harriet, snuggled itself beside my chair, purring contently. It certainly was quiet in here. Not that I am complaining. It's a good thing Alfred was still asleep. I only get to cherish the few moments in the morning when he is not half-shouting at me all the time.

Ah, yes, I was thoroughly enjoying this peaceful moment. With Alfred around, it was rare for me to get some peace and quiet. It was around ten o'clock when Alfred had gone skipping down the stairs, feet thudding on my floor. My face flickered from calm and collected, to somewhat annoyed. I was aware that Alfred was more of a morning person than I am, actually. He usually woke up earlier, but he took a lot of naps in random times of the day when he was not doing anything productive. Then there's me, who despised getting up early, and who also equally despised taking a nap (I had the tendency to _over_sleep) and also being disrupted from my sleep. It was rare enough for me to wake up this early, let alone get out of my bed and make some breakfast, but apparently, a good, quiet breakfast was short-lived. Alfred even had the nerve to stomp his feet excitedly like it was Christmas day, not bothering to mellow down. He hasn't even had his breakfast yet! So why was he so energetic? God, I may just believe it if people told me he had a nuclear storage plant inside him to provide him energy in place of the normal things humans... or nations... have.

I slowly put down my book as he entered the dining room, looking at him with a look that said I might be really uninterested right now. He didn't seem to get the hint.

"Good morning, Artie!" He grinned at me and plopped down on a seat next to me. He was only wearing boxers and a grey shirt, which I believe was quite sloppy of him as a guest to show up like that during breakfast. But I held my tongue.

"Good morning, Alfred. Breakfast?" I politely offered him as a host, but right now, I only wished not to be bothered and he could cook his damned breakfast on his own for all I cared. Where was this annoyance coming from anyway? I just dismissed it as me not being a morning person. It was way too early for me to put up with this crap. "Although, I have finished off my scones, so I'll have to cook something else for you. I didn't really expect you to get out of bed this early."

As if ten in the goddamned morning was still early. He laughed, "Actually, I was kinda surprised that it was already ten! And that you woke up before me!" He paused to think (something he rarely did; oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't supposed to be mean to my lover now, was I?). "I really want a cup of coffee right now, though... I feel like going back to sleep again, but I don't wanna... Oh, and how about some eggs and bacon and toast?" He grinned again. Typical breakfast for typical Alfred. I nodded and put down my book, leaving a bookmark where I stopped reading. I then stood up and took the ingredients out: bacon from the freezer, eggs from the refrigerator, and instant coffee from the cupboard. If Alfred thinks he's going to get anything more than the instant mix from me, then his is clearly mistaken. I do not drink coffee frequently enough to actually buy good quality coffee. So if he thinks he's going to get something like a café Americano from me, then I say sod him, because if he complains one more time about the food in my house ("Artie, you seriously need to get a coffee-making machine!"), I will personally show him the door.

But I digress.

"How would you like your eggs cooked today?" I asked, trying to lower my temper. It's so early in the morning, and it's such a beautiful day! Why soil your mood over your annoying American boyfriend? That's certainly no fun.

"Sunny-side up, please!"

I nodded and got to work. I made sure to be mindful of my cooking lest I reduce the whole thing into a piteous, charred piece of shit and receive patronising words and gestures from Alfred. I certainly don't want to be embarrassed about my cooking skill any further. I could hear Alfred move from his seat and stand up, and all of a sudden, his arms wrapped around behind me. "Aww, the wife's cooking me my breakfast! This is so awesome! Thanks, Artie!" He kissed me on my cheek. I flushed a defiant shade of red and scowled at the breakfast.

"Call me wife again and I will castrate you and feed your chopped-off bollocks to the dogs." I snarled. Oh, I hate, hate, _hate _it when he forces a feminine role upon me! I'm just as masculine as he is, albeit... in different ways... but nevertheless, it is not an excuse to call me his wife, joke or no joke!

From the corner of my eye, I could see Alfred pouting and puffing his cheeks out. "Artieee..." he whined, "Don't be so mean to me! I was just kidding!" He hugged me tighter, and I protested loudly, making a weird, strangled sound.

I hissed at him, trying to shake him off my back. I was cooking, damn it! If this thing burns, he better not blame me and make fun of it, or else I'm going to cook his sorry arse. "God damn it, Alfred, if you don't release me this instant, I will hurl you into your bleeding sunny-side up egg!" That's when he let go and morosely went back to the table, mumbling an apology.

All right, I suppose I was quite harsh on him. But honestly, I'm getting quite sick of it. Somehow, he just annoys me a lot, without even trying. _Then_ he'd go do or say something, which annoys me even more! That doesn't make sense, but neither does this stupid annoyance with him. I don't even know why. He's not even doing anything.

"I-I'm sorry, Alfred... I'm just... a bit riled up this morning for some odd, non-existent reason. I'm really sorry for snapping at you." I mumbled, not daring to look at him while cooking. I knew he'd be pouting and huffing his cheeks again.

A few moments passed, and I somehow thought he had gotten up and left me, but he suddenly spoke up, proving me wrong. "That's okay, Artie. I know you get crabby a lot, and you seem to have lots of mood swings. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong, and yeah, it's okay. I still love you anyway."

I didn't really know if I wanted to smile or scowl at that. The idiot was too sweet for his own good. He can't stay mad or upset at me and neither could I, towards him. "O-oh you." I allowed myself to smile softly, even though he couldn't see. "I love you too, git. Now just stay put and wait for your breakfast."

"Don't burn it, okay?" He reminded me with a boisterous laugh.

Sometimes, I just had to remind myself that I loved the cheeky, arsewipe and that I really didn't want to throw a sizzling frying pan at him right now thanks to his idiocy.

* * *

**A/N: **I really need to come up with more reasons. But yeah, here's chapter 3! 3rd drabble. Hope you guys liked it. I almost forgot that this was a human AU, haha. Feel free to suggest any "reasons" why Arthur loves Alfred, okay? I need more prompts. /sobs


End file.
